


blue light in the dead of night

by museicalitea



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Buddy Cop AU, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-23 01:49:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3750412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/museicalitea/pseuds/museicalitea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not like the universe hasn’t conspired against Bokuto before. Things like internet troubles and teasing about his love life, he can usually handle. </p><p>But this time it’s worse, because something’s wrong with Akaashi. Bokuto doesn’t know what - and he doesn’t quite know what to do.</p><p>Inspired by and set within <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3168116/chapters/6879116">Crisis Converted</a>, by the marvellous <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/Aetherdrive"> Aetherdrive</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aetherdrive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aetherdrive/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Crisis Converted](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3168116) by [Aetherdrive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aetherdrive/pseuds/Aetherdrive). 



> Disclaimer: I do not own this universe, this setting, or certain mannerisms of these particular characters – all of the above belong to Aetherdrive, and his fic Crisis Converted. You should check it out if you haven’t already – it is excellent, first and foremost; and additionally, this story contains spoilers for that one. This story takes place five to six weeks after Chapter Eight, and is not meant to be regarded as canon for Crisis Converted – this is fanfiction of fanfiction, published with Aetherdrive’s permission.
> 
> And why am I writing this, you may ask? Because... it's Aetherdrive's birthday today! Happy Birthday, Valentine!

“You _forgot_ to tell me that you won’t be here next week?”

Bokuto swallowed his mouthful of coffee, and stared into the depths of his mug as though it had the answers for how to deal with a peeved partner. “…Yes.”

It was late afternoon, and apart from Konoha and Washio, they were the only two in the office. Kuroo and Kenma had left twenty minutes earlier, citing a rescheduled appointment with Kenma’s physiotherapist. Yaku had told them, looking exhausted and exasperated beyond the point of measure, that he would be down in interrogation with Lev; and Yamamoto and Inuoka were out somewhere, doing… something. They hadn’t said, or maybe he hadn’t heard them leave.

Akaashi had commandeered Bokuto’s laptop five minutes ago, stating that his own internet was on the blink. Somehow, he had ended up on Bokuto’s email account. And now, he was giving Bokuto the most intense and simultaneously deadpan side-eye Bokuto had ever seen.

“And that you’re going to _Miyagi_?”

“Um.” Bokuto took another sip of coffee, and surreptitiously brought the mug a little higher to hide himself somewhat. He braced himself for the reprimand that was certain to come. “Yes.”

Akaashi did not reprimand him. He tilted his head, and – wait, was he smiling? “As in, the Street Shark of –”

“Yeah,” Bokuto said sheepishly. He lowered the mug to the table, rubbing the back of his head. “They got in touch with the Metropolitan PD a few months ago and asked if we could run some of the training sessions for their latest set of recruits… and they may have kinda heard about our unit taking Kunimoto down…”

“Hmmm?”

“They may have asked for me personally.”

Akaashi still looked exasperated, but the corner of his mouth quirked into a smile. “And you accepted, evidentally.”

“Well, yeah!” Bokuto shrugged and leaned back in his chair, grinning at Akaashi. “Gotta show those country folks how tough you’ve _really_ gotta be to cut it as a detective in the big city, right? Plus the higher-ups are gonna pay for accommodation and stuff, _and_ they said they’d pay me extra for doing it anyways, so… I might as well, I figured. I’ve had a look at what they want me to talk about – it all sounds pretty cool!”

“It’s a good opportunity, for you and them,” Akaashi said, nodding. He turned his chair to face Bokuto and raised an eyebrow. “Country folks, though? Isn’t the academy in Sendai?”

“Yeah, it is, but it covers a lot of the prefecture, and Chief Nekomata’s been talking with some of the people who run it. They get lots in from the smaller towns, he said.”

Akaashi nodded. He turned back to the laptop and scrolled through the email again. His eyes narrowed after several seconds. “Just you?”

“They… They actually wanted Kuroo as well. Wanted him to give a workshop on gun usage, but he said no.”

“How come? I’d have thought he’d like to do something like that.”

“I’d have thought so too! But… well.” Bokuto smiled a little sadly. “Kenma’s only just come back to work, and Kuroo didn’t want to leave him alone. He went to Chief Nekomata as soon as he got the email to say he couldn’t do it – eh. Wouldn’t do it.”

“Mm… Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me,” Akaashi said, his expression softening. “So, how long are you going to be away for?”

“It’s a pity, though,” Bokuto continued. “He liked it there last time.”

Akaashi squinted at him. “Last time?”

“Oh, we went there a – Washio?” He spun his chair around abruptly to face the corner of the room, where Washio was brewing coffee. “How long ago was that?”

“What?” Washio looked up from the coffee pot, and his eyes widened as they landed on Bokuto’s outstretched arm pointing at him.

“Sendai. When were we there?”

“Oh. Um…” He hummed, deep and low in his chest. “Nearly two years ago, I think?”

“Yup! I remember now! Cheers!” Bokuto called, shooting him a double thumbs up.

Washio nodded slowly. “No problem…”

“Sorry, Bokuto-san – Sendai two years ago?”

“Oh, we had to do some training, and the higher-ups sent us to Sendai for it,” Bokuto said, spinning back to face Akaashi again. The force made him overspin, and he flung his arms out to catch himself on the table. “We’d just gotten some new people in the unit, and it was like, good team bonding! Ooh, and we met some of the recruits at the Police Academy there – man, that was epic.”

Akaashi nodded. “I see. So, how long are you –”

“There was this one kid who was buzzing every time I saw him – he wanted all these tips, and like the awesome person I am, I helped him! Man, he was so _cute_ , Akaashi!”

“Wait, you talkin’ about the orange kid?” Konoha said, lowering the lid of his laptop and leaning his elbows on the desk.

“Yeah!” Bokuto spun his chair round again, missing Akaashi’s shoulders slumping in exasperation.

“I remember him,” Konoha said, nodding. “Stamina t’ rival yours. Terrible shot, though.”

“Orange kid?”

“Mm – ooh, and Kuroo’s kid, Tsukki!”

“Aah… mm.” Konoha frowned. “Which one?”

“Tall, blonde, glasses, kinda rude but also really good at his stuff?”

“Yup, yup, comin’ back to me now. Kuroo kept draggin’ him away for shootin’ practice, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, he did! Y’know, I can still –”

“ _Bokuto-san,_ I don’t mean to be rude, but I’d like to know how long you’re going to be away for.”

Bokuto’s face fell, and he spun his chair back around to see Akaashi looking exasperated. “Oh jeez, sorry, Akaashi!” He rested his arms on the desk and slumped over them. “Guess I kinda got carried away, huh?”

“It’s fine,” Akaashi said. “It sounds like you liked the people you met there, and I would like to hear more about them sometime. But it _would_ be helpful knowing how long –”

“Oh, less than a week,” Bokuto said, pushing himself off the desk and relaxing into a broad grin. “Monday to Friday, and then we’ve got a weekend off – good timing, huh?”

There was a snort from the corner. Bokuto turned back around to see Washio grinning behind a hand pressed to his mouth, and Konoha openly smirking at them.

“Oi!” Bokuto said, scowling at them. “What’s so funnny?”

“Oh, nothin’, nothin’,” Konoha said, his voice shaking with barely suppressed laughter. “Just, y’know – a whole _weekend_ to yourselves, and just yourselves, and… My word, I can only _imagine_ the kinds of things our dear captain might get up to with his beloved partner.”

Bokuto’s cheeks grew hot, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Akaashi hide his face in his hands. Konoha snorted again, pushed his chair out from the desk, and got up.

“Called it, Washio, they _are_ havin’ sex,” he said over his shoulder as he walked out the room. “You owe me a thousand yen.”

Akaashi had the right idea, Bokuto thought, as he buried his burning face in his arms and tried to block out Konoha’s sudden peals of laughter, Washio’s footsteps across the room, and the distinct sound of money being handed over.

* * *

“I just still can’t believe they’ve been betting about _our_ sex life, Keiji!” Bokuto said as they left the car and walked into the gym that evening.

“I didn’t think Konoha-san was quite that perverted,” Akaashi said, grimacing as he nodded in agreement. “I’ve worked in the same unit as him for nearly five months now, but I still don’t feel like I know him very well. I’m not sure I want to, after that.”

“Aw, Konoha’s alright!” Bokuto said, dumping his gym bag on the bench in the changing room and unzipping it. “Washio too! Konoha just gets a little… overenthusiastic, sometimes!”

Akaashi gave him a very sceptical look as he pulled his workout clothes out of his own bag. Bokuto couldn’t fathom what that look was about. It was true, wasn’t it?

“You could always team up with them while I’m away, if you want,” Bokuto continued, unbuttoning his shirt. “Get to know them a bit better, plus they’re dealing with some sorta tricky smuggling case right now and they’d probably appreciate the help. I’ll tell them tomorrow, if you’re keen.”

Akaashi shrugged. “I’d be fine with that, I suppose.”

Bokuto hummed as he changed, glancing over at Akaashi’s exposed back once. Or twice. Or maybe a few times. It was a very nice back. “Y’know, Konoha’s actually freaky scary with predicting who’s gonna end up together.”

“…Wait, this wasn’t a one-time thing?”

“Nah, he’s got relationship bets going all the time. Mostly with Washio, sometimes with Lev.”

Akaashi stopped in the middle of pulling his t-shirt over his head and stared at Bokuto with raised eyebrows. “Why Lev?”

Bokuto shrugged as he pulled on his shorts over his compression pants. “Lev always loses. Easy thousand yen for Konoha.” When Akaashi rolled his eyes, he pressed on. “No, but seriously, he predicts everyone else’s love life but can’t seem to get his own sorted.”

Akaashi smiled wryly. “Don’t tell me he and Washio are dating as well.”

“What? As… well?” Bokuto frowned. _Who else does Akaashi think is dating? …Anyone else in the unit…?_ “No, no, it’s one of the Inspectors in the PD. There are like, these two really good-looking – objectively good-looking, Akaashi! Good-looking Inspectors on floor ten or something like that. I think Konoha has the hots for one of them, and they’re _kind of_ a thing but not an actual thing, you know?”

“Um. Like we were?”

“Yeah, like that except like… not?” Bokuto gestured helplessly as they went over to the sparring mats, bouncing on his toes a little as he walked. “I dunno, it’s really complicated! Like, he’s always telling me ‘bout they go on these weird dates and I don’t know if she’s toying with him or he’s not showing enough interest but they aren’t official yet and it’s been _so long!_ ”

“Well, how long has it been?” Akaashi asked dubiously, starting his warm-up stretches.

Bokuto rolled his eyes. “Over two years now. I wish they’d just hurry up already and do something about it.”

Akaashi looked up, mouth agape. “Two years? What?”

“It’s a good story,” Bokuto said, stretching his arms out. “Tell you after sparring, yeah?”

* * *

Bokuto was alone in his apartment the following evening, as Akaashi was visiting his parents. He’d been calling them what felt like every second day since the Kunimoto case had closed, and had been making an effort to see them in person at least once a week. Something still lingered of the guilt Akaashi had harboured for so many weeks – guilt Bokuto had told him time and time again he shouldn’t feel. But he did and had felt it, and if suddenly spending far more time keeping in touch with his parents was something Akaashi needed to do to assuage and get past it, Bokuto wasn’t about to stand in his way.

But it did make his apartment seem very large and very, very quiet – for Akaashi didn’t come over on nights like these, stating that it would be silly for him to come over late at night for no other reason than to spend the night together. Bokuto couldn’t quite follow his logic on that point – he’d spend every night for the rest of his life with Akaashi, if given the chance – but Akaashi was usually right about things he explained logically. Usually.

So Bokuto was alone. Alone, bored, and really, _really_ missing Akaashi.

Tossing the takeout he’d picked up on the way home onto the coffee table, he flopped onto the couch, fished out the remote from between the cushions and turned on the TV. He stuck out his tongue at the news report playing on the screen (probably Akaashi’s doing), and flicked through the channels until he found a children’s channel showing cartoons. He turned the volume down low, nestled back into the cushions, and pulled out his phone. Opening up his messaging, he tapped on the conversation thread he had going with Kuroo.

 **12 Feb 19:54**  
**To: Kuroo**  
_heeeeey_

 **12 Feb 19:56**  
**From: Kuroo**  
_hey man_

 **12 Feb 19:57**  
**To: Kuroo**  
_you free? like to talk or whatever_

 **12 Feb 19:59**  
**From: Kuroo**  
_ummm_  
_can we talk later maybe?_  
_kenma had a bad night at physio_  
_wanna keep an eye on him_

 **12 Feb 20:03**  
**To: Kuroo**  
_hey that’s fine_  
_poor kenma_ (○´･д･)ﾉ  
_take care of him_  
_make sure he eats and gets a good sleep_

 **12 Feb 20:04**  
**From: Kuroo**  
_cheers man. akaashi around?  
you doing ok?_

 **12 Feb 20:05**  
**To: Kuroo**  
_akaashi not here tonite. im good but srsly dw about me go take care of kenma_  
_and dw if you cant talk later all good_  
_see you tmrw_

 **12 Feb 20:10**  
**From: Kuroo**  
_k. see you tomorrow then_

Bokuto flicked out of the conversation and back to his home screen, and his shoulders slumped. No Akaashi, and now no Kuroo.

He turned back to the television and spied his takeout. He’d forgotten about it in his quest for electronic interaction, and his stomach growled as the smell of it wafted up to him.

He turned up the volume on the TV, broke apart the disposable chopsticks, and for a while he distracted himself with food and the children’s show, all bright colours and tension-building music.

And then during an ad break, almost on reflex, he turned his phone on and opened his contacts list, scrolling to Kuroo’s name automatically. And then he scrolled all the way back up to the top of the list, because right, that was a dumb idea when he knew he shouldn’t contact Kuroo that evening.

Bokuto drummed his fingers on the back of his phone and huffed out a sigh. He scrolled back down to Kuroo. And up and then down again. And again. But on his fourth flick of the screen, something else caught his eye. He paused, then slowly moved the screen until it showed the name just above Kuroo’s.

He’d forgotten about that. Hurriedly, he put the TV on mute, then he selected the name and brought the phone up to his ear. He jiggled his foot on the sofa as it rang on the other end.

“Yo, captain-san.”

“Hey, Konoha! You got a minute?”

“Uh, sure. What for?”

“I got something I wanna run by you…”

* * *

Monday morning came around much earlier than Bokuto had anticipated – that is, when he woke up unexpectedly in the middle of the night.

Bokuto half-opened an eye. He couldn’t see anything through the blear of sleep and in the pitch black of the room. He forced the other eye open a crack and squinted into the darkness. There had been shaking. Something had shaken him awake – just… where?

It was then that he heard the breaths – sharp, too harsh and loud for the middle of the night. He squirmed back a little in the mess of sheets and duvet and legs the bed had become and reached out a clumsy hand towards the other occupant of the bed.

“Hmmm? Akaashi?”

Akaashi’s hand loosened from the grip it had on the front of his shirt, and curled around his side to rest on his back. “’S nothing, sorry. Go back to sleep.” A whisper, quiet yet louder than thunder in the darkness.

His eyes were too tired and heavy to stay open any longer, and for Bokuto’s sleep-fogged mind, that was all the reassurance he needed. He relaxed into the pillow and squirmed back closer to Akaashi. Heavy with fatigue, his eyes slipped shut, and it was only seconds before he succumbed to sleep once again.

Unbeknownst to him, the hand on his back twisted and clutched at his t-shirt very tightly. It was nearly an hour before its owner let go, pulled by exhaustion into the throes of an uneasy slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: fixed up the formatting and also finished that one sentence in the middle. Sorry about that! Have the new and improved version with consistent italics and bolding!


	2. Chapter 2

“Running shoes, Koutarou.”

“Ah, right.”

“And socks for them.”

“Ooh, yeah!”

“Do you have everything else you need?” Akaashi said as Bokuto lobbed several pairs of socks in the direction of his bag, sitting in the hallway. Two pairs landed inside, and the other two bounced off the bag and fell to the floor just inches away. _New record, nice!_

“Uh-huh! All set!”

Akaashi raised an eyebrow as he scanned the list in his hand. “Phone, wallet? Keys? ID?”

“Yup!” Bokuto bounded into the hallway, piled the socks into his bag and zipped it up.

“Pyjamas?”

“Uh…” Bokuto unzipped his bag halfway and peered inside. He flashed Akaashi a grin. “Yup!”

“Toothbrush?”

He rummaged further in his bag. And then a bit further.

“Ah… give me a sec.”

Akaashi sighed. “Is there anything else, Koutarou?”

“Nope!” Bokuto called as he reached the bathroom. He plucked his toothbrush and the half-full tube of toothpaste from the sink counter, and grabbed his pot of hair gel where he had left it after using it earlier that morning. Two steps out of the bathroom, and he turned around abruptly to go back in and find the lid for the hair gel pot. “All packed and ready to go!”

When Bokuto got back into the hallway, Akaashi was crouched over his suitcase – Bokuto assumed he was double checking everything was there rather than relying on Bokuto’s memory. For a millisecond, he let himself be offended at Akaashi’s opinion of his memory capabilities. Once that was over, he tiptoed to stand behind Akaashi, swooped him into a bear hug from behind, and planted a large kiss behind his ear.

“K-Koutarou!” Akaashi yelped, his cheeks going pink. Bokuto smiled widely and nuzzled his face into Akaashi’s hair, dropping his toiletries on the ground. His hair smelt like Bokuto’s shampoo, and his smile grew even wider.

“I’m gonna miss you lots and lots, Keiji!” he said, squeezing Akaashi a little tighter as Akaashi half-heartedly tried to pry his arms off of him. “I’m gonna text you every day – and you’d better text me back!”

Akaashi stopped squirming against Bokuto’s hold and let himself sink into the embrace. “Like I wouldn’t,” he murmured. He half turned his head with a fond smile and reached over to cup Bokuto’s face. Bokuto leaned into the touch, and Akaashi pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. “I’m going to miss you too, Koutarou. This is…” He let out a little breath of laughter. “This is the longest I’ll have gone without seeing you since we first met.”

“Aw, don’t start saying sad sentimental things like that, Keiji!” Bokuto pouted. “If you keep saying stuff like that, then I’m not gonna want to go!”

Akaashi laughed, then – a joyous, unrestrained laugh that sent butterflies through Bokuto’s belly. “’Course you’ll want to go. Come on, get up,” he said, prying himself out of Bokuto’s grip and extending a hand out for Bokuto to take. “You don’t want to miss your train.”

Bokuto clasped Akaashi’s hand and stood. He let Akaashi straighten out his blazer and shirt and dust them off, and waited as Akaashi finished checking his bag, put the last items in and zipped it back up. When Akaashi finally turned back to face him, Bokuto took him by the shoulders, leaned in, and kissed him gently on the lips. He only lingered there for a moment before pulling back a little and resting his forehead against Akaashi’s, looking him straight in the eyes.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he said softly. “Keep an eye on the team for me this week. ‘Specially Kenma, yeah?”

Akaashi nodded, his face charmingly serious. Then he wrapped his arms around Bokuto’s neck, and kissed him back.

Had the alarm on Akaashi’s phone not gone off two minutes later, set as a pre-emptive measure to get Bokuto on the right train on time, Bokuto suspected they might not have left the apartment at all that day.

(And as it was, he completely forgot about asking Akaashi about why he’d been awake so late the previous night.)

* * *

“A-ah! Excuse me!”

Bokuto turned to see a short man with messy hair and large glasses hurrying towards him and waving. As he drew to a stop in front of Bokuto and took a moment to catch his breath, Bokuto couldn’t help but think that he seemed very familiar. “Are you Detective Bokuto?”

Bokuto stuck his thumbs in his belt loops and grinned broadly. “The one and only!”

“Pleased to meet you!” the man said, bowing hurriedly. “I’m Takeda Ittetsu, and I’m in charge of the Sendai Police Academy.”

“Hey, I think I kinda remember you from the last time I was here, actually! You and that blonde guy with the gravelly voice – he still around?”

“Ukai-san? Yes, yes, he’s still, uh… yes, he is,” Takeda said. He pushed his glasses up his nose and smiled at Bokuto. “Shall we get going, then?”

Bokuto let Takeda’s chatter wash over him as they walked to his car. It was small, and Bokuto had to push the passenger seat nearly all the way back to give his legs enough stretching room. Takeda looked slightly horrified at this.

“Aah! I’m sorry, Detective! My boyfr – I – ah, Ukai-san is the only one I normally drive around and he’s not as tall as you. I did remember you were this tall, I do apologise –”

“Hey, don’t sweat it, Takeda-san! Nothin’ to apologise for!”

As they drove, Bokuto couldn’t stop his foot tapping and jiggling impatiently on the floor of the car. The scenery outside the window was familiar and yet not, an echo of a memory. It was strange, not being surrounded by skyscrapers as far as the eye could see. He had lived his entire life in the city, and out here he somehow felt exposed.

The streets of downtown Tokyo were probably infinitely more dangerous than the creepiest of alleyways or darkened rooms in Sendai. And yet Bokuto felt safe there. It was familiar. It was his turf. He knew how to take care of himself with a wall at his back and roofs a hundred feet above him and guns and knives directed towards him. With a partner by his side.

He stilled his foot and tilted his head back against the headrest. And that was probably it. He missed Akaashi.

“Is everything alright, Bokuto-san?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Nothin’ important.”

***

As the complex of buildings that was the main campus of the Sendai Police Academy came into view, Bokuto was hit with a wave of nostalgia. He had good memories from this place. Target shooting competitions with Kuroo – bonding with the newly promoted Washio and Yamamoto and recently transferred Yaku – meeting the recruits from the Academy…

(There had been one recruit in the front row who’d been positively vibrating. His leg jiggled up and down very quickly, and he looked simultaneously ecstatic and ready to puke. His shockingly orange hair had caught Bokuto’s eye the moment he entered the room, and all in a second of observing the recruit one thought immediately passed through Bokuto’s mind.

_I like this one._

It was funny, really, how only a year and a half later he’d thought exactly the same thing about a person completely different to Hinata – older, far more reserved, yet in some ways far more reckless. Someone who had become permanent, a welcome and unexpected light in the storm of abandonment he had dealt with for such a very, very long time. Someone who’d thought that about him, too.)

* * *

**18 Feb 22:40**  
From: Keiji ~ <3  
_Why did you send me twenty text messages in a row?_

 **18 Feb 22:42**  
**To: Keiji ~ <3**  
_bc u werent answering_ _ಥ_ _‿_ _ಥ_

 **18 Feb 22:46**  
**From: Keiji ~ <3**  
_Sorry. I’ve been busy today. Didn’t have time to reply._

 **18 Feb 22:47**  
**To: Keiji ~ <3**  
_you arent overwrking urself r you  
dont want you to faint on us again_

 **18 Feb 22:50**  
From: Keiji ~ <3  
_I’m fine, Koutarou. It’s a tricky case, and it’s easier to work on without distractions._

 **18 Feb 22:57**  
**From: Keiji ~ <3**  
_Are you still there, Koutarou?_

 **18 Feb 22:58**  
To: Keiji ~ <3  
_yeah yeah sorry i think i dozed off!!!!_

 **18 Feb 22:59**  
**From: Keiji ~ <3**  
_Go to bed, Koutarou._

 **18 Feb 23:00**  
**To: Keiji ~ <3**  
_щ(_ _゜ロ゜_ _щ)  
i’m not sleepy anymore tho_

 **18 Feb 23:02**  
**From: Keiji ~ <3**  
_Why am I not surprised.  
How much coffee did you have today._

 **18 Feb 23:03**  
**To: Keiji ~ <3**  
_rude_  
_didnt have much srsly_  
_coffee here is crap_  
_i dont know how they survive_

 **18 Feb 23:05**  
**From: Keiji ~ <3**  
_You’ll manage.  
I’m going to bed now. Love you x_

 **18 Feb 23:08**  
**To: Keiji ~ <3**  
_Love you tooooooo!!!!!!!!!_

* * *

A tinny whine cut through the black.

It faded. And then it rang through again, no longer just a whine, but a tuneless tune. Over and over it cut through his head, and at last it woke him up. He twisted around in a tangle of sheets and bedcovers and eventually ended up sort of on his front.

The tinny noise was still playing, harsh on his ears. Bokuto lay with his face half-squashed into the pillow and half-opened one eye. On the nightstand, his phone was lit up and buzzing.

_A phone call… now? Wha’? Who the hell’s calling me in the middle of the night?_

He was very, _very_ tempted to let it run to voicemail, so he could roll over and go back to sleep. His eyelids were heavy and he could barely keep them open. The glaring light of the phone was giving him a headache, an awful pressure just against his skull, and the longer he stared at it, the worse it got. It would be so _easy_. But… but.

But it might be something important. _Fuck._

Blinking to try and clear the sleep from his eyes, he reached out and scrabbled for his phone, wincing at the brightness as he tapped it to answer the call.

“H’llo?”

“Koutarou?”

Bokuto frowned. “Keiji? Wha’… Why’re you callin’…” He broke off with a yawn, and rubbed a hand against his eyes. “Now? ‘S late.”

There was near-silence on the other end of the line. Akaashi’s breaths sounded down the phone. They were stiff, ragged. Bokuto’s sleepiness sapped away as his mind sharpened with concern. He pushed himself up until he was sitting, untangling the mess of blankets with his free hand.

“Hey, Keiji… You alright? Somethin’ happen?”

There was a very long pause. Bokuto kept his phone pressed close to his ear, and drew his knees into his chest, curling his free arm around them.

“I… I’m sorry I woke you up.” Akaashi’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “Nothing’s wrong. Please go back to sleep.” He was silent for a moment. “I love you.”

The call disconnected.

Bokuto drew the phone away from his ear, and stared at it until the screen went black. He sat in the darkness for several minutes, very much awake and mind reeling. Because that Akaashi had called at this time of night at all – and especially sounding that unsure, that _scared_ – meant that something was definitely, definitely wrong.

Bokuto just had no idea what it was.

* * *

Bokuto had a couple of hours before he was needed again, and he had taken the opportunity to explore the main building a little more. Somewhere in between giving the higher-ups the slip and trying to find an exit, he had ended up on the third floor of the building, and was decidedly not lost. Not at all. Not in the slightest. Yes, he had never seen this corridor which appeared to house nothing but conference rooms of varying sizes, but he was certainly, absolutely, and most very definitely not lost.

And if he were lost – well, he kinda wanted to be alone anyway.

The door to one of the conference rooms was slightly ajar. Looking up and down the hallway – still no one around – Bokuto approached it and peered inside. It was empty, and he wasted no time in slipping into it. He shut the door firmly, then went to the large table and sank down into one of the chairs there.

He hadn’t slept very well after Akaashi’s strange call in the middle of the night. He had tried so, so hard to close his eyes and get to sleep, but he would drift off for what felt like just a couple of minutes before his eyes would blink open again. Again and again it had happened, and it had been a relief when his alarm had gone off and he’d been able to force himself to wake up properly.

Except now he was exhausted, and wanted nothing more than a good nap. Or coffee that wasn’t really shitty. And normally Bokuto considered himself to be a forgiving man when it came to coffee, but the stuff available at the Academy was just _appalling_.

Rubbing his forehead, he spun the chair experimentally. He grinned as it whizzed around smoothly. Just like in the First Unit office, except this chair was better padded and looked way posher, which sort of made spinning in it a lot more fun.

Bokuto’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He stuck his foot out to stop the chair, then pulled it out and unlocked the screen.

 **19 Feb 14:02**  
**From: Konoha**  
_Hey Bokuto san can I call you_

Bokuto narrowed his eyes at his phone.

 **19 Feb 14:03**  
**To: Konoha**  
_yeah sure why_  
_better not be about last week_  
_i still cant believe u bet on us wtf_  
_(¬_¬)_

 **19 Feb 14:06**  
**From: Konoha**  
_You wound me captain *clutches chest*  
Legit reason i promise_

 **19 Feb 14:09**  
**To: Konoha**  
_hmmm ok fine you can call now_

A minute later, his phone started ringing with some weird American song he hadn’t bothered looking up. He tapped the answer button and brought it to his ear.

“Hey hey hey!”

“Yo, captain-san. How’s the training going? Missing us yet?”

“Course I miss you guys! No one here wants to watch my owl videos during the breaks.”

“What a tragedy.”

“I know, right? Actually, though, it’s good, really good. Sendai’s got some really interesting kids in the academy right now.”

“Interesting, you say?”

“Well, not like Hinata-kun and Tsukishima, but they’re not too bad.”

“They watched your owl videos, didn’t they.”

Bokuto decided not to answer that question. “So, how are things going down your end?”

Konoha hummed. “Got a date with the pretty Inspector from the tenth floor tomorrow night.”

“Ooh – hang on, which one again?”

“Uh, the blonde one who keeps trouncin’ me at the firing range.”

“Haha, nice one!” While he talked, Bokuto pulled a pen out of his pocket, flipped over a pile of forms, and scribbled **_date 87_** in messy kanji with his left hand. He tilted his head at the characters as though a different angle would make them look more like actual words. “Where are you going?”

Konoha cleared his throat. “…The firing range. And then dinner. Loser pays.”

“Aw, don’t sound so glum!” Screw messy, the kanji weren’t really legible. He switched to holding the phone with his left hand, picked up the pen again, and continued to write: _**date 87 K’s gonna get beatn hardcore and buy dinner for her. Probs wont make it oficial this time AGAIN**. _ “Get Kuroo to take you down for some practice before then, and you’ll be fine! And anyways, like, the gentleman’s always _supposed_ to pay on the first date, right?”

Bokuto got a chill in his gut at the sudden silence on the other end of the phone. He could almost feel Konoha’s death glare burning him from several prefectures away. “So who paid for the food when you and Akaashi started goin’ out?”

“Oi, you said you wouldn’t talk about that!”

“Sorry, sorry.” Konoha laughed – light-hearted, carefree. “Chill, captain-san.”

Bokuto relaxed, but decided that now would be as good a time as any to steer Konoha away from making further jibes at his love life. “You made much progress on that smuggling case?” he asked, switching the phone back to his right hand.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s goin’ fine.” Bokuto hummed an assent as he clumsily folded the paper with the details of Konoha’s prospective eighty-seventh date on it. “Interrogated a couple more people the last coupla days. Washio’s goin’ through what we got so far with Akaashi, an’ I think they’re gettin’ a lead. That’s what it sounded like when I stepped out, anyways.”

“Hey hey hey, that’s what I like to hear!” He grinned as he slipped the folded paper into his blazer pocket and pushed the stack of forms away from him.

“That’s, uh… that’s not why I called, though.”

“Oh. So… what did you want to call me about? Something wrong in the unit?”

“Well, kinda…” Konoha said. “I’m… I’m actually kinda worried about Akaashi.”

Bokuto’s stomach dropped. Something in his throat seemed to close up He pressed his phone closer to his ear and leaned forward on his desk. “Has something happened, Konoha? What’s wrong?”

Konoha sighed into the phone. “I dunno, Bokuto. He just seems… off. Tired. He’s got these massive dark circles under his eyes, and he’s been quiet all day. Not even snappish, just… he’s barely said a word to anyone ‘less we talk to him first. Though you might know somethin’ about it.”

Bokuto’s shoulders slumped and he rested his chin on his hand. _So last night wasn’t it?_ “He hasn’t said anything to me. He isn’t sick, is he? How long –”

“Just the past couple o’ days,” Konoha said quickly. He paused, and Bokuto waited. “I don’t think he’s sick, exactly, but…” He exhaled. “I gotta say, captain-san, this isn’t, uh… ‘S not the first time I’ve seen him like this.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s been kinda weird since the Kunimoto case closed. Like, most of the time he’s okay, but there’ve been a couple o’ times when he’s come in and he looks like he hasn’t slept for a week. And then the next day he looks fine again. You know anythin’ about it?”

Bokuto shook his head, mouth ajar. It took him several seconds to remember that Konoha could not see him. “No? Kei – Akaashi seems fine… I think? Or he did. He was.” His gaze darted around the room as he tried to think of how to express himself. “I mean, I’ve been with him most of the time since January, and he’s… he’s seemed okay enough.”

“I mean, I’d write it off today as bein’ about Kozume, but –”

“Kenma?” Bokuto straightened in his seat. “What about Kenma?”

“Ah. Well, you know he only came back to work last week, and he’s seemed fine, but today… he was wincing a lot, and he looked real drained. Kuroo-san took him home an hour ago. Think he mighta done somethin’ to his shoulder –”

“Crap, is he alright?”

“I don’t think it’s _serious_ serious!” Konoha said quickly. “Kuroo-san looked kinda freaked, but then, it’s Kozume.” He sighed. “Ah, I dunno. He said Kozume was pushin’ himself too hard, which don’t sound much like him –”

“You said something about Akaashi?”

“Oh, yeah. Look, my point is I’da put Akaashi bein’ off today down to that, but he’s looked dead beat since he came in this morning. And, like I said – this ain’t the first time I’ve seen him like this.”

 _Last night – there was something wrong, damn it!_ Bokuto ran a hand through his hair and swore under his breath. “Ugh! Damn it, I should be there!”

“You’re comin’ back tomorrow, aren’t ya?”

“Mm.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him ‘til you’re back, if ya want. Let ya know if he seems worse. You comin’ back via the office?”

“I will now! I’ll swing by and pick him up on my way home.” Bokuto sighed – a huff of air that released a little of the tension growing and clawing at his chest. “Make sure he doesn’t overwork himself tonight, will ya?”

“Gotcha loud and clear, captain. I’ll send him home before it gets late, doncha worry.” Konoha was quiet for a moment. “You got _any_ idea what’s botherin’ him?”

Bokuto stared at the desk. It was times like these that he really wished things like magic mirrors were real, so he could see everything for exactly what it was and fix it before it got bad. He’d had the phone call, and Akaashi _had_ seemed a bit on edge sometimes in the past few weeks, but… no, he didn’t want to think about it. Konoha didn’t need him to ramble about something that he couldn’t even make sense of yet. “Not really. Thanks for telling me.”

“No problem. I got both your backs, remember that. Me and Washio, both of us.”

Some of the tension eased out of Bokuto’s shoulders and he slumped back in his chair. “I know.”

“You’ll figure it out. Hey, hope the rest of the training goes alright. Get back safely, yeah?”

“Will do.”

“Good. Listen, I probably gotta get back to work now, but I’ll let you know if anythin’ comes up.”

“Got it. See you.”

“See you tomorrow, captain-san.” With a click, the call ended.

Bokuto pulled his phone down from his ear and stared at it. It felt very heavy in his hand. His grip on it tightened, and with a strangled yell he slammed it down on the table, letting his fingers take the brunt of the blow. He leaned his other elbow on the table and raked his hand through his hair, hot feelings of worry and confusion and frustration bubbling through his stomach.

_Damn it. Damn it! Why did I have to be right?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Bokuto does not overuse emoticons when texting then what is the point. And so I would like to take a minute to thank the tumblr Super Kawaii Emoticon for providing us all with an overload of emojis. It is much appreciated by me. And Bokuto.
> 
> Also, for reference: I'm using 2015 calendar dates, if that's any help for keeping track of things going on in the fic.
> 
> I am also on [Tumblr](http://museicaliteacup.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/museicalitea) \- so check those out if you want to say hi!


	3. Chapter 3

The entrance doors of the Metropolitan Police Department slid open. Bokuto stepped into the building, and he was immediately overwhelmed by the warmth—a far contrast to the dropping temperature outside and the chill radiating off the walls of the underground parking lot.

He pulled off his scarf and unbuttoned his coat as he walked through the lobby, calling out a greeting to the receptionist and waving to a couple of people he recognised from the sixteenth floor as he made his way to the lift. He stepped inside it and smiled contentedly as he pressed the well-worn button for the eighteenth floor. It smelled like home. Kind of. Just home with a lot more coffee and perfume and office-smell.

On the third floor, however, the lift drew to a stop. The doors opened with a ding, and a woman in uniform stepped inside, pulling her hair into a ponytail. She nodded at him.

“Evenin’, Detective.”

Bokuto grinned at her. “Inspector Suzumeda. How ya doin’?”

“Ah, not too badly.” She smiled back at him, and her nose crinkled a little. “When did you get back?”

“Huh?”

“From Miyagi,” Suzumeda said, twisting the hairtie round a final time and tugging the base of her ponytail to tighten it. “Konoha-san was telling me about it the other day.”

“Oh! Just half an hour ago. Walked here from the station. It’s good being back, though! Miyagi’s really, really cold—I mean, it’s cold here too, but there it’s like—gyah! And… ryeh!”

Suzumeda rolled her eyes, still smiling. “Take it your use of conventional Japanese didn’t improve much while you were there.”

“Hey! Whatever bad stuff Konoha’s telling you about me is lies and slander!”

“Sure, sure. Folks from the boonies treat you alright?”

“Yeah, it was good. I’ve missed the coffee, though. Never drink the Sendai Academy coffee,” he said, giving Suzumeda what he hoped was a meaningful and serious expression. “Ever.”

She gave him a mock salute. “I’ll take your word for it, Detective. Ugh, are we only on the seventh floor?” She rapped against the wall of the lift with the backs of her fingers and scowled. “Damn thing’s been acting up all week. Least five of us have told maintenance about it, and what have they done? Nothin’, that’s what.”

“Maintenance aren’t _that_ bad! Keeping the heating going strong, though, and that’s what matters, right?”

Suzumeda laughed. “In this weather, truer words have never been spoken. Ah, _finally_.” The doors opened to the tenth floor, and Bokuto waved a hand at Suzumeda as she made to leave.

But halfway through stepping out of the lift, she put a hand out to still the door and turned to face him.

“Bokuto-san?”

“Mm?”

“Could you tell Akinori that I’m running a bit late? I’ve got some bloody legal things I have to finish sorting out, and I won’t be at the range until quarter to seven or so.”

“Quarter to seven. Got it!” Bokuto shot her a grin and a thumbs up, but as soon as the doors closed behind her he narrowed his eyes.

_Akinori, huh?_

He stifled a yawn behind his hand as the lift continued upwards. Strange, that he was this exhausted after not even two hours sitting on a train when he could train at the gym for far longer than that and only feel more energised. And okay, he’d had another restless night’s sleep, but surely a couple of hours sitting and half-dozing should have countered that?

The lift slowed and fell to a stop, and the doors dinged as they opened onto the familiar corridor of the eighteenth floor. Bokuto stepped out and headed off in the direction of First Unit’s office, but stopped as a very familiar whine sounded through the corridor.

“But Yaku-saaan, why do _I_ have to do it?”

“Because,” Yaku’s disembodied voice said (through gritted teeth, it sounded like), “I’m in charge today and I told you to. You are also being a pain in the ass and it’s annoying everyone.”

“I’m not that annoying, am I?”

“You will be if you aren’t out of my sight in ten seconds’ time!” There was a pause, and then Yaku’s voice raised suddenly in pitch and agitation. “And watch your—”

“Ooow!”

Yaku’s sigh sounded even more despondent than usual. “Head.”

Bokuto waited a moment, expecting to see Lev trotting down the corridor towards him, but when a few seconds had passed and there was no Lev to be seen, Bokuto presumed Yaku had sent him off in the other direction.

Well, at least he wouldn’t have to deal with the ruckus that would surely follow once Lev discovered he was back.

He walked down the hallway, footsteps muffled by the worn-out carpet, until he was close enough to the office to see inside. Close to the door and talking with Yaku, Akaashi’s back was to him, and Bokuto’s eyes lit up as an idea struck him. Making violent shushing gestures to the rest of the unit, he tiptoed to behind Akaashi’s chair, and brought his hands down over his eyes.

“Hey hey heeey!”

Akaashi pulled his hands down and half-spun his chair around, breaking into a surprised-looking but delighted smile.

“Bokuto-san?”

“The one and only!” Bokuto said, pulling Akaashi out of his chair and into a hug. “I’ve missed you!”

“I’ve missed you too, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said, his voice muffled a little where his face was buried into Bokuto’s jacket. “What—” He pulled back a little, still smiling, but looking confused. “What are you doing here? I thought you—”

“Wanted to surprise you!” Bokuto said, beaming. “And make sure you didn’t stay here too late, ‘cause you do that.”

“Says you,” Akaashi said flatly. Bokuto shrugged, and leaned around to Akaashi to wave to the rest of First Unit, the members of whom were watching the exchange with expressions ranging from fondness to very knowing smirks. Scouring the room, his stomach sank and his face fell a little when he saw that neither Kuroo nor Kenma was in the office.

“They called in sick,” Yaku said, catching his eye and nodding towards Kuroo and Kenma’s empty seats. “Kuroo sounded very shady about it, but there wasn’t anything I could do.” He pursed his lips. “You been keeping alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Bokuto said, waving off Yaku. “Just kinda bummed—I wanted to see how Kenma was doin’ after yesterday!”

Yaku frowned. “How did you know about yester—”

“Ahh, Kuroo texted me about it!”

Yaku still looked sceptical, but he let it go with a nod, and Bokuto turned back to Akaashi, silently thankful that his deviation from the truth had gone unnoticed.

“I’ve left my stuff in the car, so we can head off as soon as you’re ready!”

“Alright, then. Give me a minute to get my things together.”

As Akaashi moved to start packing his bag, Bokuto’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and unlocked the screen.

 **20 Feb 17:56**  
**From: Konoha**  
_Oi look up_

He looked up to the far end of the room, where Konoha was holding up a piece of paper with large characters written on it in blue marker pen.

**_Get a room already_ **

Bokuto pouted at Konoha, but before he could say anything, he noticed that Washio’s head was bent over the desk. A moment later, he held up his own piece of paper, blocky characters a stark contrast to Konoha’s bubbly ones.

 **_Ignore that doofus — >_ ** **_  
_ **

Konoha craned his head around to look at Washio’s sign. His eyes narrowed, and he picked up his pen again.

**_< —  Rude_ **

Bokuto chuckled, and Washio’s face darkened. He pulled out his phone, and a moment later Konoha’s phone buzzed on the table. Konoha swiped it up, made a face at the screen, and started tapping at the keys at lightning speed.

Fighting down his laughter, Bokuto turned back to Akaashi.

“Nearly done?” he asked brightly.

“Just about,” Akaashi said, closing his bag and pulling his coat on.

Bokuto slung an arm around Akaashi’s shoulders as they left the office, waving to the rest of the unit. Once they were in the hallway and out of sight of their colleagues, he pulled Akaashi in closer and kissed his temple.

“Mmmm! You smell so good!”

“I don’t think I smell any different. You, on the other hand—” Akaashi cupped the side of Bokuto’s face and pecked him on the nose—“smell like you’re hungry.”

“Huh? How could you tell? I don’t smell any different—do I?”

“Your stomach’s been growling ever since you got up here, Koutarou.”

“Oh. Heh. Well, where d’you wanna go for dinner?”

“Hmmm… There’s a new ramen place that’s not too far from here. I’ve looked at their menu, and they’ve had good reviews from the critics.”

“Hey hey, that sounds good!”

Akaashi pulled away from Bokuto a little and kept walking. Bokuto made to follow him—and then a thought struck him. He stopped, and patted his pockets, breathing a sigh of relief when he felt his phone.

“Hey, Akaashi!” Akaashi turned around, and Bokuto shifted his weight on his feet. “Ah—you go on and open up the car. I gotta pee _really badly_.”

Akaashi raised an eyebrow, but he shrugged and turned back towards the lift. “Don’t take too long.”

Once Akaashi had stepped into the lift, Bokuto pulled out his phone and tapped out a message. He walked back down the hall and turned into the corridor where First Unit’s office was. Leaning against the wall, he spun his phone around in his hands while he waited.

And a minute later, Konoha stepped out into the corridor.

“Captain-san,” he said, lounging against the wall next Bokuto. He stuck his hands in his pockets. “Thought you couldn’t get away fast enough. What’s up?”

“I, uh… I just wanted to say… Thanks for looking out for Akaashi this week,” Bokuto said quietly, eyes fixed on Konoha. “I really appreciate it.”

Konoha nodded, his typical grin muted but still there. “Any time, captain-san. Look, I—I hope whatever it is gets… better, I guess. He’s—he’s good to work with. I can see why you like him so much.”

Bokuto nodded, and squeezed Konoha on the shoulder. “Same here. Seriously, man, I owe you one.”

“Ah, no sweat,” Konoha said, flapping his hand dismissively. “You go home and do whatever it is young lovers do. Omission of details much appreciated.”

“Ooh, speaking of—you gonna make it official with Suzumeda-san anytime soon?”

Konoha cocked his head sideways, looking bemused. “Whaddya mean—”

“This is gonna be your eighty-seventh date with her.”

Konha froze, mouth hanging open. He didn’t blink for several seconds, and Bokuto could swear that he’d stopped breathing.

“What,” he choked out after half a minute.

Bokuto clapped him on the back and Konoha stumbled forwards a little, mouth still agape. “The worst she can do is say no, and if she’s stuck with you for eighty-six dates so far and you’re on first-name basis I’m pretty sure she’ll be good to do more. Just saying.”

“Whe—wha—” Konoha looked panicked. “What did Kaori say to you?”

“That she’s running late and gonna meet you at quarter to seven instead. I gotta go, otherwise Akaashi’s gonna get suspicious. Don’t hyperventilate, ‘kay?”

And with another pat on the back and a grin, Bokuto left Konoha in the hallway. He glanced back before turning the corner to the lifts, and saw him slumped on the ground, head in his hands and looking like his birthday had been cancelled.

* * *

The apartment was cold when they got in late that evening, and after toeing his shoes off Bokuto abandoned his bag in the entranceway in favour of hurrying to turn the heating on. When he got back, Akaashi had put both of their bags in the bedroom and was curled up on the sofa, still in his coat and with his sleeves pulled down over his hands. Bokuto bounded over to Akaashi and bounced down to sit beside him, wrapping his arms around Akaashi’s middle and snuggling in close.

“The heating’s gonna take a while to get going, but we can cuddle together to keep warm! Like owls!”

“Koutarou—” Akaashi’s words were cut off as Bokuto leaned in and kissed him full on the mouth, smiling as he let that beautiful sound wash through him. His name— _his_ name!—said by the most lovely voice on Earth.

“ _Koutarou_ ,” Akaashi said again, gently prying himself away a little from Bokuto, “I think you’re thinking of penguins.”

“But owls are cooler!”

“Yes, but they don’t huddle together for warmth. They don’t need to.”

“Come on, Keiji, they totally—” But Bokuto’s argument was cut short as he yawned.

“Tired?” Akaashi said with a smile.

“It’s—” Bokuto broke into another yawn. “It’s a long train ride from Miyagi!”

“Come on,” Akaashi said, holding out a hand towards Bokuto. “Bed.”

Bokuto whined and huddled into Akaashi again. “Can’t I just sleep here on the couch?”

“No, Koutarou.” Akaashi raised an eyebrow at him and linked their hands together. He tugged, and Bokuto let himself be pulled upright—but Akaashi had only taken a couple of steps forward when Bokuto draped himself over him.

“No, no, no, Koutarou! I am _not_ dragging you to the bedroom.”

Bokuto leaned a little more heavily on Akaashi, and made his best puppy-dog eyes. “Carry me?”

“I can’t, you know that.” Akaashi grabbed a hold of Bokuto’s arms and forcibly extracted himself from their hold. Bokuto slumped forwards onto him again, and Akaashi stumbled under his weight.

“But I’m tiiiired!”

“Your bedroom isn’t that far away. Urgh, you’re _heavy_!”

Once again, Akaashi ducked out from under Bokuto, but before Bokuto could so much as start to whine, Akaashi turned and pulled him upright, kissing him solidly on the lips.

Bokuto let out a squawk of surprise, but Akaashi kept kissing him, snaking his arms over Bokuto’s shoulders and wrapping them loosely behind his neck. He started moving forwards, and Bokuto let himself be pushed along, sucking and pulling at Akaashi’s lips with his own. He slipped his tongue into Akaashi’s mouth, and both of them moaned at the sensation.

Bokuto closed his eyes, and was barely aware of his feet shuffling backwards as he kissed Akaashi, burying one hand in his hair and sliding the other under Akaashi’s shirt and up his back—

And then the backs of his knees hit something, and he collapsed backwards onto his bed.

“Huh? Keiji!”

Akaashi gave him a quick kiss on the forehead, then went over to the wardrobe.

“I’ll use the bathroom first,” he said, pulling out a pair of his pyjamas. “I won’t be long.”

Bokuto gaped at him as he left the room. “You—you tricked me!”

“How else was I supposed to get you to the bedroom?” Akaashi called.

“Meanie!”

“Oh, just get ready for bed, Koutarou! Unless you didn’t like it, of course…”

“No!” Bokuto yelped, springing up from the bed. Akaashi’s laughter floated into the bedroom.

“I didn’t think you’d mind that.”

Ten minutes later, Bokuto had finished in the bathroom and turned out the lights in the apartment, and made his way back to the bedroom. Akaashi was sitting on the bed, scrolling through something on his phone, but he looked up as Bokuto came into the bedroom and closed the door. He put his phone on the bedside table and flicked on the lamp, and Bokuto turned the main light off.

Akaashi watched Bokuto as he made his way to the bed. There was a strange expression on Akaashi’s face. Sort of serious. Like there was something he had to say but didn’t want to at all.

“I _am_ glad you’re back,” he said quietly.

“Aw, missed me that much?” Bokuto teased, climbing into bed and bouncing a little on the mattress.

“I…” Akaashi looked down, clutching at the owl-print sheets.

Bokuto’s smile faded. “Keiji?”

Akaashi looked back up at him after a moment and smiled—a small smile. Almost sad. But still there. “I’ve missed seeing you every day. It’s too quiet at work without you there.”

Bokuto leaned forwards and kissed him very gently on the mouth. When he drew away, he looked Akaashi right in the eyes and smiled again.

“I’m back now, aren’t I?”

Akaashi nodded, and leaned his forehead forwards to touch it against Bokuto’s.

“You are.”

He turned off the lamp and they lay down, pulling and shifting the sheets and blankets. Bokuto wrapped his arms around Akaashi, Akaashi snuggled in close, and felt like only minutes after Bokuto had closed his eyes that he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Bokuto jolted awake. He blinked his eyes open to a dark room, tense with fear, gut twisting in terror. He was being shaken, something was writhing and pushing and shaking him, and there was a scream, someone was screaming—

It was Akaashi. Akaashi was struggling in his arms, screams and pleas tearing from his throat, muffled by the bedclothes.

And he was still asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Adrenaline sparked through his veins. In a rush of panic, Bokuto untangled himself from Akaashi and grabbed his shoulder, shaking him as forcefully as he dared. “Keiji?” he whispered, gut churning at the horrible, tearing screams and pleas coming from his boyfriend. “Keiji, wake up. Keiji!”

Akaashi’s eyes snapped open, and his screaming cut off harshly and abruptly. Through heaving breaths he took one look at Bokuto, and with eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room Bokuto could see his face crease and crumple. His mind was still buzzing with fear and adrenaline, but it didn’t take a clear mind for Bokuto to gather Akaashi into his arms and hold him tightly as he began to cry.

“Y-you had the gun,” Akaashi said between sobs, clutching at Bokuto’s t-shirt. “And you s-said my name, and you—you—” His voice choked, too thick with tears to keep going. Bokuto pressed his lips to Akaashi’s forehead and redoubled his grip on Akaashi’s t-shirt, damp with sweat. “I c-couldn’t stop you, Koutarou, I couldn’t…”

“Hey,” Bokuto said shakily, rubbing Akaashi’s back. The adrenaline had begun to ebb from his veins, and the repetitive movement was grounding to him as he soothed Akaashi. He closed his eyes momentarily “Hey, now. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. You got that, Keiji? I’m right here with you. Breathe, that’s right. It was just a dream.”

As he talked, Akaashi’s sobs faded into sniffles and heaving breaths against his chest. Bokuto kept murmuring gentle reassurances even so, and it was only when Akaashi let go of his t-shirt and pushed back against his arms a little that Bokuto let him go. Akaashi sat up and rubbed at his eyes, drawing his legs up to his chest. Bokuto pushed himself to sitting as well, and leaned over to grab his phone. He pushed the power button and winced as the screen glared into life. 3:04.

“Mm? Time?” Akaashi asked. His voice was shaky and quiet. Scratchy. Scared.

“Three-ish,” Bokuto said. He leaned over to replace his phone on the bedside table, and turned on the lamp. Akaashi squinted in the sudden light. His eyes were very red, and his face flushed from crying. Bokuto shuffled closer to him, and took one of Akaashi’s hands in his own. “Hey,” he murmured. “Are you alright now?”

Akaashi nodded, looking down. He bit his lip. “I’m fine. It was just a stupid dream.”

Bokuto reached out and brushed his free hand under Akaashi’s eye, wiping away a tear. “What was it about, Keiji?” He kept his voice soft and steady.

Akaashi’s lip trembled. “It wasn’t—I—it’s…” He sniffed. “It wasn’t real. I know that. It wasn’t that—it wasn’t. Real.”

“Keiji.” Bokuto rubbed his thumb in circles over the hand he was holding. “It—I dunno, it might help if you talk about it. Get it out.” Akaashi said nothing, but as Bokuto watched another tear spilled down his cheek. He felt a pang in his stomach, and abruptly let go of Akaashi’s hand, only to crawl over the bed to draw Akaashi into a hug from behind. Akaashi leaned back into him, and they sat there like that, breathing together in the yellow light of the lamp.

“W-we were in the garage with Kunimoto,” Akaashi said after a minute, his voice quiet and yet eerily loud in the silence of the night. “You were standing there. With… with your gun at your…” His voice caught and his shoulders tensed. “And I couldn’t say anything. I tried to stop you but I—I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t move and you said my name, and—” He sniffed. “And you… you…” Tears welled up in his eyes and trickled down his cheeks, and he bit his lip. His body began to shake again. “You…”

The words were like rocks plummeting down into his stomach, sinking and pressing with an awful, sickening weight. A shiver wracked Bokuto’s body as the memory of the garage flashed dark in his mind. Adrenaline like none he had ever felt searing through his veins, sparking through his brain. The bitter taste of fear. Nausea, bile, as he looked upon the man who had dared to harm them—who had dared to try and take away everything Akaashi held dear.

The ghost of cold, cold metal against his temple. A finger, quivering on the rough surface of the trigger.

The shot.

(On that night, he had said Keiji’s name, and then he had begun to count. He had started from five, and on four the sniper rifle had found its mark. Bokuto didn’t know if Kuroo was just freaky good at knowing how Bokuto worked, or if he’d struck lucky with the timing.

Bokuto had hoped as much as he could that it was the first. He didn’t trust fate not to reverse time and make everything go horribly, horribly wrong if he guessed otherwise.)

Bokuto pressed his lips to Akaashi’s shoulder and kept his hold firm, willing his trembling arms to hold still. He rocked Akaashi gently, and as he did so the churning in his gut calmed and stilled.

“I’m here,” Bokuto said. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. You got that, Keiji? I’m right here with you. I love you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Akaashi blinked hard and nodded. His face was screwed up, pressed together as if to stopper the tears, swallow his emotions until he choked on them. And Bokuto _knew_. He knew that feeling—equally, knew how terrible it was when there was nothing you could do to stop the emotions spilling over. When you couldn’t hide.

“Keiji? Keiji, look at me. Come here.”

Akaashi turned so he was facing Bokuto, face still caught in the struggle of remaining calm when he was anything but. Bokuto leaned forwards and embraced him.

“Kou—Koutarou?”

Bokuto kept his hold steady, taking comfort from Akaashi’s breaths rising and falling against his chest. And as they stayed there, Akaashi relaxed in his arms. He began to cry again. His sobs echoed through the room for minutes, trembling through his body and pouring messily from his eyes and mouth. Bokuto rested one hand in Akaashi’s hair, and rubbed slow circles on his back with the other.

He had lost track of the time, but when Akaashi went limp in his hold, Bokuto nearly dropped him in shock. A quick look at Akaashi’s face showed that his eyes were closed, and his breathing was slower, calm. He was asleep.

Bokuto lowered him to the bed, kissed his forehead, then turned out the light and settled back down. He pulled the sheets and duvet over the pair of them, wrapped his arms around Akaashi, and closed his eyes.

Even though Akaashi was warm and breathing steadily beside him, it took him a long, long time to get back to sleep.

* * *

Bokuto blinked his eyes open. Sunlight filtered in through the blinds, landing in faint stripes on the floor and bed. He unhooked an arm from around Akaashi and reached backwards for his phone, twisting his body a little so he could see the time. 6:43.

Akaashi’s eyes were puffy, and his face pale. Bokuto’s stomach panged as he looked at him, and he leaned in to kiss Akaashi’s forehead, running a hand gently through his tousled hair. Normally, even just these light touches would rouse Akaashi a bit—and while an awakened Akaashi was not exactly an _awake_ Akaashi, it was something Bokuto was used to. But Akaashi slept on. He didn’t even stir.

Bokuto eased himself out of bed, and gently tucked the covers back around Akaashi. He stroked his thumb over Akaashi’s cheekbone, and sighed. The bags under his eyes were darker and deeper than they had been in weeks, and even in sleep Akaashi’s face wasn’t wholly at peace. He looked so very, very _tired_.

Bokuto showered quickly, towelled off, and decided to skip gelling his hair. Dropping his towel on the bathroom floor, he wandered back into his bedroom and opened the wardrobe, glancing briefly over at Akaashi. Still asleep.

He looked briefly at his jeans, raised an eyebrow at them, then reached up to the shelf with his pyjama tops. He pulled out the first thing he felt, and shook it out. And then he raised the other eyebrow at it.

It was a pair of blue and green plaid pyjama pants—pants he had never seen before in his life. Frowning, he brought them close to his face and sniffed. They smelt sort of musty, and quite a lot like his cologne, but there was a faint trace of unfamiliar washing powder beneath all that.

 _Keiji’s._ A warmth spread through his stomach, and for the first time that morning he smiled, wide and fond. He was about to put them back, and then he rubbed the material between his fingers. It was soft, comforting. Slouchy. Exactly the sort of thing to wear on a lazy Saturday morning.

And so he shimmied them on, surprised when they fit. He pulled out the waistband to check the label. It was a size bigger than Akaashi normally wore trousers in—Bokuto’s size. He knew it was probably a coincidence—for physical comfort rather than sentimentality. But that Akaashi owned clothes in the same size as him at all made him smile.

Shrugging on a clean t-shirt, Bokuto meandered into the kitchen and started up the coffee machine.

* * *

It was nearly half-past seven when Akaashi trudged into the kitchen: still in his pyjamas, rubbing his eyes and with hair even more tousled than Bokuto had left it earlier.

“Morning,” he said, the word half-muffled by a yawn.

“Good morning!” Bokuto said, smiling at Akaashi. “Coffee?”

“Um…” Akaashi yawned again, and stretched his arms out. “Maybe not. Think I’ll have tea or something.”

“I’ll get it for you,” Bokuto said. He got up, kissed Akaashi on the lips, and steered him over to a chair through half-hearted protests, planting his hands very forcibly on Akaashi’s shoulders to make sure he sat and stayed sitting. Akaashi rolled his eyes and raised an eyebrow at him. And then he sighed.

“One teabag, _half_ a teaspoon of sugar, three minutes steeping, and—”

“And milk, I know, I know! Got it all under control!”

They fell into an amicable silence as Bokuto filled a mug with boiling water and jiggled a teabag about in it. Akaashi looked distracted, so Bokuto let him be. Stirring in the sugar and glancing up at the clock, he went to open the fridge and search for the milk. He heard a faint pattering sound, and peered out of the fridge.

Akaashi was drumming his fingers on the table very rapidly, chewing his lower lip. He looked up as Bokuto closed the fridge, milk in hand, and made his way back to Akaashi’s tea.

“You didn’t wake me up for our run,” Akaashi said quietly.

Bokuto turned towards him from the counter and smiled at him. “I thought you could use the sleep! It’s just one day, anyway—we can run further tomorrow to make up for it if you want!”

Akaashi snorted, and raised an eyebrow at Bokuto. “Somehow, I don’t think even _you_ would manage more than the distance we run already.”

Bokuto shrugged. “I can give it a go, can’t I?” He plucked the teabag from the mug, poured in a splash of milk, and brought it over to the table, placing it in front of Akaashi. “There you go! Just how you like it!”

“Thank you, Koutarou,” Akaashi said with a faint smile, picking up the mug from the table and blowing on it. He took a sip, and closed his eyes. “It’s good.”

Bokuto plonked himself down opposite Akaashi and picked up his mug of coffee. For a while they sat there in silence, drinking and breathing and watching the room grow warmer with the growing sunlight streaming in from the window.

“Hey, Keiji?”

“Mm?”

“Are—are you okay after last night? Did you sleep alright?”

Akaashi stared at the table, hands curled around his mug. He was tapping against it with a finger, and one quickly escalated into several, beating out a rapid, erratic tattoo. He didn’t appear to have noticed. Bokuto frowned.

“About that. I—” Akaashi faltered, swallowed, and spoke again. “I didn’t mean to wake you up last night. Or the other night, on the phone.”

Bokuto tilted his head at Akaashi, and then his eyes narrowed as realisation struck him. “That was a nightmare too, wasn’t it.”

Akaashi’s face tightened, and he nodded.

“Was it the… um… the same thing?”

Akaashi shook his head once. “No. It wasn’t… it wasn’t very nice, though.” His voice became even quieter. “I don’t want to think about it, and I—I don’t need to talk about it.”

Bokuto placed his mug on the table, his coffee suddenly sour in his mouth. “Keiji,” he said slowly, “you don’t – you don’t have to apologise for stuff like that. If you _wanna_ talk about—”

But Akaashi shook his head and interrupted him. “It’s my problem. You have enough to deal with already. It’s been nearly six weeks, and I—I was fine.” He dropped his gaze and clutched his mug a little tighter. “I thought I was fine.”

Bokuto leaned on the table, face drawing into a frown as concern bubbled in his gut. “Keiji—”

“Look, I’m not saying I expected to be past it straight away. But I didn’t think I’d still be affected by it this long afterwards.”

“Look, I… I don’t know a lot about this sort of stuff,” Bokuto said, rubbing the back of his head. “I’ve never really read anything on psychology or nightmares or stuff like that, but I don’t think it’s… it’s not strange that you’re still not over it.”

Akaashi stiffened. “I should be.”

“It doesn’t matter to me if you aren’t!”

“It does.”

“But it shouldn’t—”

“But it does to me because this isn’t something I want to bother you with, Bokuto-san!”

In a reflex jerk, Akaashi lifted his hands and brought them down as his voice reached a crescendo. But he was still clinging tightly to his mug, and it landed down sharply on the table. Bokuto jumped as it clanged against the wood.

Akaashi’s voice had risen alarmingly in his outburst, tight and sharp. Very suddenly, his face was no longer calm. It creased, and there was something dark and frightening in his eyes.

But as soon as the words had escaped his mouth, Akaashi inhaled sharply. He blinked and dropped his gaze, a dark flush to his cheeks. Letting go of his mug, he pressed one hand to his mouth, the other clenching tightly on the table top. His breathing got very heavy, and there was a faint tremble to it.

All at once, Bokuto was reminded of the Akaashi of nearly two months ago—constantly on edge, exhausted to the point of collapse, tired and shaking and trying his utmost not to fall apart as a senseless, horrible person took everything he knew and loved and tried to destroy it.

And how he’d hated seeing that—wanting to help, to properly help yet not wanting to overstep his boundaries; wanting to hold him and comfort him from the beginning of the hurt and make promises that Akaashi might actually believe. That nothing would hurt him; that everything would be okay. Wanting to be that much closer for Akaashi’s sake.

Akaashi didn’t like being vulnerable. Bokuto knew that. And he didn’t like being seen as weak. And yet—oh, how many times had Bokuto wished he could give Akaashi all the comfort he had so desperately looked like he needed in those awful, awful weeks.

Now, at least, he could. And maybe Akaashi would listen.

Bokuto reached out and unfurled Akaashi’s fingers from their fist, and entwined their hands together. He squeezed gently.

“Keiji.” Bokuto squeezed Akaashi’s hand again, and it wasn’t until Akaashi looked up at him that he continued. “I know you say it’s not my burden. The… the thing is…” He chewed the inside of his cheek as he tried to figure out how to say the thing he knew Akaashi needed to hear.

“Thing is, Keiji, that’s what I’d say too.”

“What…” Akaashi sniffed, and rubbed his reddened eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Um…” Bokuto bit his lower lip, and his leg began to jiggle up and down. It was so, so much harder than he’d thought it would be a moment ago to say what he wanted to. _Huh._

“Well, it’s just… You weren’t the only one there, Keiji. I was…” Bokuto choked out a laugh, dry and sort of desperate. “I was terrified. And I’ve had nightmares about it—hell, it’ll be the middle of the day and I’ll just remember his voice! Or…” His mouth went very dry, and he swallowed. “Or the gun. Against my head. It’s kinda scary, ‘cause I know nothing’s there, but I can still feel it, y’know?”

Akaashi’s eyes widened, and his hand unconsciously squeezed Bokuto’s. “You haven’t acted like anything’s wrong. You never told me about this!”

Bokuto smiled sadly at Akaashi. “Guess that makes two of us, huh?”

Akaashi opened his mouth, his face screwed up and indignant—but after a couple of seconds, he relaxed, and averted his eyes away from Bokuto. “I guess it does.”

“There’s nothing wrong with having nightmares, Keiji,” Bokuto said quietly. Akaashi’s shoulders tensed, but Bokuto just squeezed Akaashi’s hand again and kept going. “They’re awful, but they aren’t real! They can’t really hurt you. I know it feels like they can. And they stop you sleeping and make you think all sorts of awful things, but they’re just… memories. And you can wake me up if they happen, I seriously don’t mind!”

“Koutarou, that’s—that’s not—” Akaashi stared at Bokuto with eyes darkened with—it looked like fear. But not quite fear.

“The—the thing—the thing is, I… I haven’t been having them here.”

“Huh?” Bokuto slackened his grip on Akaashi’s hand. “Keiji, what—what do you mean?”

Akaashi sat up straighter in his chair and took a deep breath. His face settled into its usual calm expression—nearly. Bokuto noticed a set to his jaw that he’d very rarely seen before. His eyes seemed far, far away. “Most—most of the time, when I’ve had the nightmares, I’ve… I’ve been at my place. By myself. And I wake up and I’m alone and I forget, for a moment, that you’re alive and that Kenma and Kuroo-san are okay and that no one died and that everything’s fine. I just forget it, Koutarou. A-and normally I remember again, but sometimes I don’t, I panic, and that’s—” He faltered. And then he swallowed, and started talking again. “And that’s why I called, the other night. I had to make sure. I don’t think I’d have been able to sleep afterwards if I hadn’t.”

When he finished speaking, he didn’t look down. He kept his chin lifted, but though his jaw was set, his lower lip was trembling.

Bokuto frowned and was silent for a few moments, trying to process something Akaashi hadn’t said, but had so very much implied. “So… The nightmares are mostly when you’re not… here? Not sleeping next to me?”

Akaashi blanched. And then he swallowed, and nodded, his lower lip clenched beneath his teeth.

“It’s really stupid,” he said quietly. “Really, really stupid, but I—I feel safer when I’m with you. I feel safer when we’re together.”

Unbidden, a warm, fuzzy feeling rose in Bokuto’s stomach. He smiled. And then he got up, walked around to the other side of the table and pulled Akaashi into a tight hug, resting his face in his hair. “I guess you’re gonna have to sleep over here a lot more, then. ‘Cause I don’t want you to not feel safe ever again.”

Akaashi snorted. It was wet and sniffly-sounding, but it rang so much truer of Akaashi than he had seen that morning that Bokuto couldn’t help but smile into Akaashi’s hair.

“Koutarou, you can hardly prevent that from happening.”

“Oh yeah?”

Akaashi didn’t answer. But he wrapped his arms around Bokuto’s waist and nuzzled into him. His breathing was calmer. And that was answer enough.

One conversation about it wasn’t going to fix Akaashi overnight, and Bokuto was already thinking to suggest that Akaashi call Komi to try and figure out how to deal with it. But the tension and the fear had vanished. He could breathe easy again. Akaashi was in his arms, safe.

And Bokuto was there to hold him and reassure him—to love Akaashi and show him that he was loved—and there was probably nothing more comforting in the world than knowing that that was the case.

(Although, it wasn’t for another couple of weeks that the idea of asking Akaashi to just move in with him even occurred to Bokuto.)

 

  _-fin-_

* * *

 

A very silly epilogue (what do you mean I forgot all about putting Kuroo and Kenma into this story until it was nearly done who did that I certainly didn’t why would you say that this is really very silly don’t take it seriously please) AHEM.

**A Very Silly Epilogue:**

“Kuroo, where have you been? I haven’t seen you since last Saturday! Last _Saturday_ , bro!”

“Sorry, man.”

“It’s been four chapters, bro, and you’ve barely shown up!”

“Sorry, sorry! I… just… ooh, jeez, this is gonna sound kinda weird.”

“Eh. I don’t care.”

“Okay, so you must know by now that I took Kenma home on Thursday ‘cause he was pretty tired and looked like he was in pain, yeah?”

“Yeah…”

“But the _next_ day, I had this feeling when I woke up. It was like… man, it was like if either of us left the apartment, something horrible was gonna happen to the both of us.”

“Huh? How come?”

“Got no idea, Brokuto. It freaked me out, though. Almost like someone who liked me and had a place near and dear for me in their heart was out to make my life as hellish as possible.”

“…Dude, that’s a weirdly specific feeling. You sure you didn’t have a few drinks and space out a little? Magic mushrooms? Broccoli?”

“I’m being serious here, Bokuto!”

“Did Kenma get that as well?”

“Meh. I don’t know. He knows something is off with me, but I dunno what’s goin’ on in his head.”

“Huh. That’s… really strange.”

“Yeah, don’t I know it. I’m a nice guy, Bokuto! …Most of the time, anyways! Who’d have it out for me?”

“…How oddly specific are we talking?”

“Beats me. I mean, I got it after I’d had this dream where Kenma was jabbed multiple times with a butter knife and I was chucked into a swimming pool. Maybe it was that?”

“Maybe. That’s a weird-ass dream, bro. Hmmm… you could try drinking warm milk before going to bed? With vanilla and sugar? Or just by itself, I dunno. Or tea. Akaashi swears by tea if he needs caffeine but also needs to calm down, you get me.”

“Loud and clear, bro.”

“And dude, I get that it’s your gut and you always need to listen to your gut – but not when it’s _that_ weirdly specific.”

“…Fair point.”

“I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?”

…

“Ooh, hang on a tick. Just got an email from… huh.”

“Hm?”

“What kinds of flowers do you like?”

“Flowers? Eeh? I dunno… Ooh, I like bouquets with those little charms on sticks! Owl charms!”

“’Kay, I’ll tell him that.”

“Who?”

“Konoha.”

“Huh? Why does Konoha wanna send me flowers?”

“Er… ‘Yo Kuroo captain-san kinda showed me the light and kaori and I are a thing now and captain-san deserves like a pony or something but I can’t afford that I think so flowers it is what do you think he’d like.’”

“Aw, cool! Took ‘em long enough – hey, wait! Was I supposed to know about him sending me flowers?”

“Oh. Prob’ly not. Oops.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _“What’s the worst that could happen?”_ Hmmm, I wonder VALENTINE LOOKIN AT YOU. Famous last words, Bokuto. (And this bonus thing is very silly and not to be taken seriously. I do apologise.)
> 
> Fun fact: This is the first multi-chapter fic I have ever finished. I am slightly astounded, but mostly immensely pleased. I've loved writing _blue light_ , and especially because it's been for one of my friends. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's read this, and especially to those that have left kudos, subscribed to, bookmarked and/or commented on this story. You're all wonderful - have a virtual hug from me! Or a big smile if you're not into hugging!
> 
> And the biggest thanks must go to Valentine - for letting me play in his universe, and for generally being a wonderful person and a very good friend. Super big hugs for you, lovely.


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